A Father and his Son
by Bails903
Summary: John Bailey recounts the struggles that he and his dying father had to go through and the people that helped them along the way. First ever story so please enjoy and leave reviews.


**This is the first Chapter into what I hope I can turn into a great story. Please leave your Reviews and if you like it, I will continue to write. If not, please leave constructive criticism on what I can improve. Thank you**

To whom it may concern:

What you are reading is most likely the last thing I will ever write down. I am stuck on the third floor of Saint Bernard hospital, room 3037, Atlanta Georgia. My father is sitting on the far side of the room, sleeping, dyeing from the virus that has ravaged almost all of the world. I will try to write down the events that have led to this very moment, detailing those that have helped us in a world without hope. My name is John Bailey, and this is my story.

It all started on a Thursday, or maybe a Friday. Damn, it's been so long I can't even remember. We were on a family vacation, my older brother Tim, my younger sister, Sadie, my mom Leslie, and my father, George. We were visiting our Grandparents in Georgia at the time of the outbreak. Mom, Tim and Leslie all caught the virus while me and my Father did not. I guess we just have the right genes. My grandparents also caught it, and they died pretty fast. We were all shocked at the speed the virus had killed them, taking only a few days to put them down for the count. Not twenty minutes after they passed, they opened their eyes again, but this time, they weren't my grandparents.

When their eyes fluttered open, my mother was amazed at the sight of her parents return to the living world, and quickly went in to hug and kiss them. She didn't know that they wouldn't be who they were when they died, and wasn't ready for the teeth that started to bite her. We ran as my Grandparents chowed down on my mom, and mom, if you are in a better place, I just want to say that I love you and I'm sorry for running.

We ran away from that house, running to a neighbors house from down the road. They accepted us in with open arms, but were skeptical at the story we had just told them. The tears in our eyes and blood from my mother weren't enough to convince them and they decided to go check out the situation themselves. We never saw them again, but we were fairly certain of their fate.

We turned on the news to see what was happening and the results that we were presented with were terrifying to say the least. The headline blared DEAD RISING, STAY AWAY FROM THE DEAD. It turned out that our grandparents weren't the only ones to take a second chance at life and now the world was in chaos. We spent the night at that house, my father staying up to watch out for any threats. When I awoke my father had told me that he has seen the dead shambling around but none had attacked our home. It was then that I noticed that my brother and sister were not present to our little meeting.

"They died in their sleep" said my father. "I threw their bodies outside, and they just woke up about an hour ago." I couldn't handle myself as the tears started to roll down my face. My Mom, Brother and Sister, all dead, and now all alive, if that's how you want to put it. My dad calmed me down before I could get to emotional, telling me that we weren't safe where we were and that we had to move.

Before I go any further into our hellish living nightmare, I should probably give a little background info on myself and my father. I was fifteen at the time of the outbreak, and my father was fifty-one. My father was former Navy, and knew how to handle himself in a fight. He also knew how to survive, learning the necessary skills to survive on ones own. He had taught me a few things he knew, like how to hunt with a few traps and how clean dirty water. Looking back, I am so grateful for the things that I learned from that man.

While I was asleep, he said he had looked through the house and had found a few weapons that we could use. The items he found were a hunting knife, a hunting rifle, a crossbow, and some bear traps. It seems like the people that lived here liked to hunt, and big game at that. I took the knife and the crossbow and my father took the rifle and we set out.

As we left the house, the stench that filled the air was the first thing to hit me. If death had an actual smell, then this was it. It seemed that the dead had moved on so at least we had some time to make way and decide where we would go. My father decided that Atlanta would be the place to go, being it probably had military there and it was only a thirty minute drive. We found a car that we could use, unlocked with the key in the ignition. The worst part though was that the driver was still in there

I gave the knife to my father as he began to slit the dead mans throat to try and put him out of his misery. The problem was though that the man was still alive and biting. My dad then stabbed him in the head, which the dead man succumbed to. This new info that they can only die through a head wound was very important, because without this info, we probably would have died down the road from making a mistake.

We disposed of the mans body and set out for Atlanta, hoping that help would be there, and that the nightmare would be over soon. Oh how wrong we were.


End file.
